Manipulated Living
by mynameism
Summary: Mello was not supposed to die in that ruin of a church. And when a Shinigami with a fondness for him chooses to save his life, he is given the chance to chase down Kira for himself. But what will he do with the power of his new Death Note? On Hiatus
1. Chapter One: Assumption

_**Basic Overview: **An alternate universe where Mello is given the chance to live and chase down Light for himself. This results in new Death Notes, unfair dealings, destruction of Gods and strange alliances. It also brings about an awakening deep within our Anti-Christ of a protagonist. Rated for dark themes and language, which shall appear later._

_I accidently deleted the first publication of this, which is highly vexing. Please review again, it means a lot._

_A/N: I know the quote at the beginning is rather long, but I feel that it perfectly encompasses the theme of this story. I've had this brewing in my mind for a while now; it's probably been done before a million times, but here's my shot at it. It's also my first AU which is always exciting. I know vaguely what I'm going to do, but if I gave that all away, it would spoil the surprise. Eventual MelloXSayu. _

Manipulated Living

Chapter One: Assumption

'_I saw that [he] was a genius of suffering and that in the meaning of many sayings of Nietzsche he had created within himself, with positive genius, a boundless and frightening capacity for pain. I saw at the same time that the root of his pessimism was not world-contempt but self-contempt; for however mercilessly he might annihilate institutions and persons in his talk, he never spared himself. It was always at himself first and foremost that he aimed the shaft, himself first and foremost whom he hated and despised.' _

_- _Herman Hesse, 'Steppenwolf'

;~;~;

This story actually began one hundred and fifty years before the Death Note fell into the human realm and Light Yagami happened to pick it up. These particular events came into motion the moment Vitae, the Shinigami, fell in love with Adolphus Keehl, the human. He was an aristocrat, the adviser of Kaiser Franz Joseph the first, and a ruthlessly intelligent man. His beauty stole the immortal's heart. But that is a tale for another time.

;~;~;

"Armonia Justin Beyondormason?"

The dignified and ever elegant Shinigami lifted his head at the mention of his name. "Yes?" Is voice was languid and as wispy as the smoke which rose from his finely-rolled opium cigarette. He sat slouched on his throne of a thousand skulls, the jewels encrusted about his throat, all over his body and face shimmered softly in the perpetual twilight of the Shinigami realm. He knew the rules well, and the Old Man placed great trust in him. He was the only one who could help her.

She knelt in supplication before his feet; after all, she was a lowly creature, and he was a dignified and wise entity.

"I have a question about one of the rules. A purely hypothetical question."

"Which one?" He said with an arched eyebrow and an irritated inflection to his voice. He would much rather be sleeping, or smoking himself into a comfortable haze. He did not particularly want to help the little wretch stooping at his feet, but he was proud of his reputation as the wise adviser of their world, and it was this hubris that forced him to oblige her request. He took a long drag from his cigarette, held it, and then let the blue smoke slowly wisp out from half parted lips.

A small, black tongue poked out and attempted to moisten her cracked lips. She swallowed. "It had had something to do with the human world, but it _is_ just hypothetical."

He nodded impatiently and waved his hand in a 'get-on-with-it' sort of way. "So you have said before. Please, I am an exceptionally busy man."

She cleared her throat nervously and began to recite: "The original Shinigami owners of Death Notes don't, in principle, do anything to help or prevent the deaths brought about by the notes." She paused and glanced up at him; he stared steadily back, his jewelled eyes were unable to show emotion, but his raised brows did. Her voice faltered slightly. "I was just wondering how 'in principle' was to be defined."

There was a horrible moment of silence as the two Shinigami simply looked at each other. A cool breeze whipped about them, disturbing the sand and enunciating the quiet.

"That is all you wanted to ask me?" It was uttered with disdain.

"We-well, you see, the more I thought about it, the more complicated it became in my head." She stuttered terribly, eyes averted shamefully to the ground. "I mean, 'principle' itself has several different meanings – in this case for example, principle can be defined as a basic law, truth or assumption." She chanced a glance up at the Advisor. "My question is: which one is it?"

Armonia Justin pressed a luxuriously gold hand to his gilded brow, putting his cigarette to his lips as he did so. When he exhaled, the greater part of the cloud flew into her face, stinging her eyes; she guessed this was a deliberate move. "My dear girl, what could you _possibly_ mean?"

Her throat began to tighten in the first throws of desperation. "Well, is the fact that we don't intervene with humans using the Death Note to kill others a fact or an assumption?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It's just hypothetical."

"Is it really?" A horrible, grimacing smile spread across his gaunt and skeletal face.

She paused, before giving a firm answer. "Yes. I was just wondering which it was."

He chuckled, his whole body convulsing with his mirth. "You are strange, Vitae." He chuckled again, like it was the funniest thing in the world. "I do not know which one best defines the word 'principle' in regards to the rule. I do not think it matters anyway, seeing that it is hypothetical."

The dejected Vitae rose to her feet, feeling disappointed; seeking the great Advisor, apple of the King's eye, had done nothing to alleviate the feeling to unease growing in the pit of her belly, twisting and squirming like a fat serpent. Perhaps a more direct rout was needed. "But, say, if I were to kill a human to stop them writing a name, would I die? Hypothetically."

Armonia Justin Beyondormason recommenced his deep, throaty laughter. "I don't know. Perhaps you should try it? Hypothetically of course."

Vitae left him then, embarrassed and still consumed by her apprehension.

;~;~;

Mello was not sleeping; but that was to be expected. He had always had trouble sleeping, and perhaps his insomnia had been intensified by what he thought the day would bring. It would, after all, be considered a suicide mission.

Watching him made Vitae melancholy, but calm – the incessant serpent in her belly was quietened, for a moment. She had been observing him since the day he was born; she had experienced all his highs and all his lows, she had been by his side when he felt he was truly alone. And her heart bled for him, and it bled for herself; she had been set on this path a long time ago, and it was too late to turn back now.

Vitae was bound by sentiment and fondness to Mihael Keehl, and she knew it.

But would she be willing to die for him?

Looking down on him now, the melancholy ache in her immortal chest piqued. She did not have the answers she craved, and her desperation was quickly rising. She had been watching the drama in the human realm unfold with a mix of wonder and horror. She knew full well what this 'Kira' was capable of; she she knew Mello's plan.

Kidnapping Kiyomi Takada would _not_ end well.

;~;~;

The sun set slowly above the high-rise buildings of Tokyo; the sky was painted red, like the fresh blood of a human sacrifice offered up in worship to a false God. _An omen?_ He thought bitterly, smiling a wry smile that was more of a sneer than anything else.

He nudged Matt awake with his sharp elbow.

January the twenty-sixth. Seven pm.

It was time to move.

;~;~;

_A/N: I know, I know, it's a short chapter. But I promise you a longer on next time if I get reviews. And I'm not just saying that to be an attention whore, lack of interest in a fic makes that story obsolete. Also, all the action starts in the next chapter. Also, I have refrained from describing Vitae, so that when Mello meets her, the reader sees her for the first time as well. So, please review! _


	2. Chapter Two: Twenty Six

_A/N: __Of course, I'm thankful for every story alert and favourite I get, but please review. I can't update without them. I would also like to know what you like or don't like so that I can improve my story. Thank you for your support, you are all beautiful people. Also, what is it with Mello and kidnapping? It's all he ever seems to do, bless him._

Manipulated Living

Chapter Two: Twenty Six

The eighth hour of the evening, January the twenty-sixth.

The sun was fast sinking in the sky, bathing the world in deep oranges and dark reds. A cool winter wind whipped at the air, but this had no effect on the stoic fanatics waiting to see their idol. Kira worshippers would be willing to wait bare-backed in the snow just to catch a glimpse of a person affiliated with their God. Night after night they waited outside the NHN studio, holding their banners high with pride, whipping themselves up into a frenzy of worship. They screamed the name of Kira in praise, and Takada followed like an echo. She was a messenger from God, a disciple of the Lord and an angel of mercy.

A sleek black limo pulled up smoothly to the front of the building. First emerged a blonde foreign woman, a body guard in a tight and decidedly stylish suit, and then, to shrieks of of joy, came Kiyomi Takada. She looked as refined and unfazed as ever, a cool smile just touching her rose-petal lips. Her dark hair was perfectly coiffed in it's cute, pixie style, and she moved elegantly, her designer winter coat clinging tightly to her voluptuous curves.

The paparazzi went wild, the crowd screamed, and everyone was taken with this pure vision of a goddess.

Mello's leather-clad hands tightened their clutch on the grip of his gleaming black motorbike. He was confident of his safety for now, due to his tinted-visor; a basic necessity of body-guarding the Stars in the times of Kira. Matt had hacked in and placed him on a team in charge of Kiyomi, creating a back-story and years of experience to go with his fake name. He was currently an American immigrant called Blu Skyee. And, luckily, there were no questions asked.

Now, while he sat and waited for things to be set into motion, something akin to nervousness welled up inside of him. _This_ was the unstable point of the plan, things hung in the balance. Everything could go smoothly and without a hitch, or everything could turn to shit. It just depended on _this one moment._

Then came the smooth purr of a high-class engine, distant and soft at first, but growing in power with every millisecond. A sneering smile curled Mello's thin lips.

_'Matt, I knew you'd be capable. Thank you my friend. And now … now it's time to bring Kira, no not Kira, not some faceless God – time to bring Light Yagami to his knees.' _

Matt screeched into the parking lot, leaning nonchalantly out of the window, and fired his gun. The powerful and enhanced smoke bomb exploded at once, leaving a thick mist to settle about the outside of the studio. Matt was off like lightening, and Takada's army of mercenaries snapped up the bait.

_Fools -_ not like that was a bad thing.

Mello's hawk-like eyes quickly scanned the clouded scene; though his vision was obscured by the disruption of his own plan, he managed to spot the retreating silhouettes of two familiar bodies. _Lidner. _She was rushing Takada into the NHN building. Hal Lidner's heavily accented Japanese fell awkwardly from her mouth: "Get inside NHN right away."

He wheeled his machine to block their path to the building. "No, we've been attacked. It's too dangerous for you to stay around or inside the NHN."

Lidner's cautious eyes flickered quickly over his figure, but they glimmered with knowledge. She was an intelligent woman, not easily fooled by disguises. He figured that even if he had not spoken, she would have worked out who he was. She pressed her rouged lips into a firm line for a second, on the brink of decision. Her steps faltered and she simply stared for several long moments, in limbo between trusting him and running.

She was taking too long.

"Hurry!" He barked. "The best thing for the moment is to get away from this place. Please get behind me, ma'am."

Lidner pressed her eyes closed and then shoved the terrified Takada forward. Lady Takada clambered onto the bike and wrapped her shaking arms around his waist in a death grip. He would have grinned, if he hadn't been signing his own death warrant.

He sped off, her grip tightening even more, so that he felt like she was trying to squeeze his stomach up through his throat. He heard the steady drone of engines, and he knew that her army of guards where coming to get him. One car crept into his line of vision; the black tinted glass was rolled down and a well build man with a buzz cut leaned out and shouted: "Okay, she's safe now. Get Lady Takada in to car seven."

Mello narrowed his eyes. _I don't think so._

His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings and, with a sudden jerk, he turned the bike down a tiny alley. His shoulders nearly touched the adjacent walls, so there was no way in hell they could follow him. Everything had been taken into consideration, everything had been carefully planned out. His pride would not allow him to fuck up on his death-day.

Almost absent-mindedly, he slipped Takada's thin wrist into the handcuffs. She was tied to him now.

There was no escape for either of them.

;~;~;

Vitae watched the kidnap unfold from a hole in the Shinigami realm, her unbeating heart heavy with a pure sorrow. She knew, as well as he did, how this was going to end. She felt so powerless, so lost. If he were to die, what then? In what other pursuit could she spend her endless time? Her world was _rotten_; there was no beauty here, only dust and rock. There was nothing to do; she found no fun in gambling and she found the company of her comrades abominable – they were just as bland as the landscape.

If she lost _him_, there would be no joy in her world. She had watched over his family for over a century, father to son, over and over. She had watched them all wither and die, the ones she had adored, but they had always been replaced, and she had loved again. But Mihael was the last of his family, there was no son to take his place.

Her sewn lips quivered.

It was not even his time. The number hovering above his head was a healthy one, a long lifespan stretching on into a comfortable old age. Not like his companion, the ill fated Mail Jeevas. Poor boy, _so young_. But she did not love him like she loved Mihael; even if she had, there was nothing she could have done. He was fated to die on the twenty-sixth of January, and his time had come to an end.

She could not bring herself to watch him die. She had seen him many times at the orphanage with Mihael, and she was saddened by his destiny. And she was saddened for Mihael's sake. His only friend was now lost to oblivion.

And he would soon be joining him, unless she did something about it.

_'The original Shinigami owners of Death Notes don't, in principle, do anything to help or prevent the deaths brought about by the notes.' _

She ran it over and over again in her head. Was it a possibility?

In essence, she would not be lengthening his lifespan; just ensuring that it reached it's natural end. And killing the person writing the name was not against the rules, she was just doing her job as a Shinigami, just cutting another life short. It was perfectly fine. Perfectly, perfectly fine.

And even if it wasn't, she didn't have much of a choice.

He had the eyes of Adolphus Keehl, and he was about to die. That simply would not do.

Immortal eyes watched frantically as he swerved about the busy city, finally reaching his destination: an open truck, complete with waiting ramp. He drove smoothly up into the vehicle, just as he had planned.

Vitae swallowed. Her frozen pulse quickened. _This was it, the final stage._

;~;~;

Mello had masterly manoeuvred the bike into the back of the truck. It was spacious and had enough room for himself, 'Lady' Takada and a fair few supplies. He dismounted, dragging her from the bike as well; he grabbed her wrist roughly, unlocked the handcuffs, and shoved her away. She stumbled into the opposite wall, hitting it with all of her weight.

Mello did not particularly _like_ hitting women, but they were so weak and easy to control. And besides, this woman was connected to Kira. She deserved no mercy.

He removed his helmet and reclined easily on the bike. He knew what would happen now that she had seen his face, and a heavy feeling of regret spread through his stomach. There was no going back now. But this had to be done. It was essential. He would die, but justice would be served eventually.

"Take off everything you're wearing and put it in that box." It was said in a commanding tone, but there was an inflection of something else. Tiredness perhaps? Probably. A huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders: the vital stages of his plan had run seamlessly, and now the struggle of life was over for him. No more trials, no more tests, no more tricks – just peace, and a final thought of a girl he had once held.

He was almost glad for it. The end.

Takada put up a little fight, but after he'd given her the blanket to cover herself with, she had no more objections. The silly girl had thought she had out-foxed him; that was not the case, he had _seen_ her take a fragment of the Death Note out of her bra, he'd just chosen to ignore it.

;~;~;

Vitae clutched her notebook to her chest. Takada had some of the Death Note – this truly was it.

Mihael would not die today. But she was not so sure of her own safety. Not that it really mattered all that much.

He was currently driving down the free-way, heading to Nagano; and it hurt the ancient Shinigami's heart to see him weep for the loss of his friend, so callously reported on all the news networks. But even though she felt his pain, she was not supposed to be keeping her eye on him. It was Kiyomi Takada that she kept her large eyes trained on.

The woman was sat hunched over in the corner of the storage space. The little piece of paper she'd been keeping concealed in her undergarments was pressed to her heart, like a precious treasure. There was a look of murder in her dark eyes.

Vitae opened her notebook, ready to strike her down at any given moment.

Time passed slowly. The truck hurtled forward in the darkness. He kept silent. She shivered, alternating between weeping and sighing. Vitae observed.

Eventually, Mello pulled into an abandoned church. His face was pained with the expression of a man with a melancholy heart. He clutched at the ornate rosary hanging about his throat and pressed it to his lips, and began to mutter a fast prayer in a low voice. He had given up God not long after coming to the orphanage, but then again, most people turned to God at the end.

Takada, seizing her chance, lurched forward, looking under the blanket for the pencil she had hidden there.

Vitae was two steps ahead of her. Her name was already written in the Immortal's book, the Kanji characters standing out bright and bold in acidic green ink.

Takada was half-way through scrawling the messy English letters on her fragment when the heart-attack hit her. Her dark, desperate eyes widened and she screamed as wave after wave of pain hit her, clenching her chest and stealing her last breath. She shrieked at the sky, her own empty life flashing before her eyes.

An absent father, a career of lies, a trail of heartbreak winding back along the years. She clawed desperately at her bare chest, trying to alleviate the crushing, clamping feeling that at grabbed her young heart; she succeeded only in painting pretty red lines across the soft, pale skin.

In her last moments, she wondered if Light would miss her. Emotionless eyes and cold kisses dictated that he would not even go to her funeral.

;~;~;

_A/N: Well, it is a little tiny bit longer I guess. Next chapter: Takada dies, Mello meets Vitae and other things happen. So please, please, please review. They actually make my day. Also, how does Mello know about Light Yagami? That is to be revealed yet! So much excitement, I can barely contain myself. _


	3. Chapter Three: Life

_A/N: Sorry for not updating for a while; I've been a tad busy. So much Christmas stuff to do, not to mention college. But thank you to everyone who took time to review this. You've all been so positive, it's really made be happy; I actually feel like a relevant human being! Insanity. (:_

Manipulated Living

Chapter Three: Life

Vitae pressed her eyes closed and braced herself for death. She wondered absently what it would feel like – how would it happen? Would she simply fade away? Would some great power strike her down with a lightening bolt? Would the Old Man rend her limb from limb and leave her broken body to rot?

And, for that matter, what would it _feel_ like? What does it feel like to die? A release? A great and terrible pain? She had never thought of these things before, she had always just assumed that she would go on until the end of time, unmoved and unchanged. The thought that she may be on the brink of destruction affected her deeply.

Her hunched little body quivered with fear.

She was going to die. Any minute.

Any minute now.

Any second.

She was going to die any second now.

…

Vitae opened her mix-matched eyes, but only slightly, to discern whether or not she was still alive. The bleak, barren and blighted landscape greeted her. Nothing had changed. Perhaps a slight wind had picked up, disturbing the sharp sand which lay in thick layers over the 'Desert' floor. She used her tough wings to shield her eyes from the momentary attack of the viscous little grains.

There was the old familiar sting as the little grains embedded themselves into the unprotected portion of her skin. She was definitely still alive.

What an unexpected surprise!

She was glad of it because, not only had she lived to tell the tale, she also now knew the proper definition of 'in principle' regarding that confusing little rule. It was an _assumption_, not a basic law or truth. _Assumption_, just as she had thought all along.

A small smile tugged at her sewn lips. She had been right about something. She had known something that the wisest Shinigami in the realm had not. A small bubble of pride welled in her hollow chest. She was often ignored by those in power, shunned for her crooked back and withered physic – she had lived a long life of being trampled on constantly; any small victory was a blessing in her eyes. But the victory was a hollow one.

The bubble of pride popped - she was forgetting herself.

She was nothing, she was merely here to help her ward; she could not remember the time when she had been like the others, it felt to her like she had always lived for the ones on Earth. It was all for them. And now, with great risk to herself, she had saved his life from being cut prematurely short, but she did not feel like a heroine. There was still so much work to be done. This Kira, this _Light Yagami_, was a force to be reckoned with; he was more terrifying than any Shinigami she had ever met. Light Yagami delighted in death, he revelled in it, death was his tool. She had never seen such evil in a man's eyes.

Insufferable human! How blind he was! The Death Note was not for human use, his case proved it. They, with their brief lives, do not understand the power they hold, and they abuse it for their own personal gain. Selfishness is the main vice of a human with a Death Note.

Curse that Ryuk. The fool. What fun was this? His boredom had ruined so many lives; including her Mihael's.

Vitae frowned, her thin claws caressing the smooth binding of her notebook. She had faith in Mihael's intelligence, but could he really make a difference? Of course, he'd gone to such great lengths before on the hunt for this Kira, this Light Yagami. But, could any good come from dropping another notebook into the human world?

It was a hard question to answer.

In a peaceful world, there was no place for it, but this was by no means a peaceful world.

And it's as not as if the thought hadn't crossed her mind before. If she had died earlier, she would have made sure that her book had fallen. And now, well now … She was as good as dead without him, and she felt that he _needed _this for success.

Still, it was her only notebook, she had no back up. She had only the fifty years she had taken from Takada. Fifty years was a very long time.

Surely that would be enough?

Or maybe?

Vitae flicked open the book and started to write names.

;~;~;

Mello's leather-clad hand grabbed at the handle on the back of the truck, his heart beating so fast and hard that it felt like it would burst out of his chest at any second. His leather grip slipped slightly under the force with which he grabbed it, but he managed to wrench it open.

_What the fuck is going on? _

He clambered up into the metal box, and a scene of disarray met his eyes. It seemed that Takada had decided to die in the most dramatic way possible. She was laying spread eagled on her back, her left arm flung backward, her right arm was hanging limply over her eyes. Her bare, still chest was raked with red nail marks; some of them had produced small beads of blood, while the others stood raw and viscous against her quickly whitening flesh. Her legs were askew, toes still curled up in agony. Her mouth, still rouged, through she had smeared the lipstick down her chin, was hanging open in a silent scream.

All was silent. His breath steamed regularly in front of him, the warmth of his respiration clouding in the cold January air.

_What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? _

His mind was whirring with a million questions; he had not accounted for this. His own death had been a given, Matt's a risk, but Takada? No, this was not right. Something had gone wrong. Why would Kira kill his spokesperson? Why would he kill such a valuable ally?

His heavy combat boots clanged metallically as he walked slowly and deliberately towards the still body. He kept his icy eyes trained on the twisted form; they gleamed with mistrust and caution. Kira would have wanted him dead; this so called 'God' was a clever man, he would work out who had kidnapped his Goddess. Killing Kiyomi Takada made such little sense that he was beginning to suspect foul play.

Perhaps it was an elaborate farce? Where they trying to trick him into a false sense of security before cutting him down? But then again, that didn't make any sense either.

_What is going on? _

He knelt beside her, leather creaking as he eased himself to his knees. He removed one glove with his teeth and gently caressed Takada's arm. Still warm. Slowly he lifted her limp right arm – large, terrified black eyes stared back at him. But there was no gleam there; her dark eyes were now as dull as rocks. She was definitely dead.

He ran his gloved hand over his head, and screwed up his hand into a fist near the scalp and pulled at the golden hair. His head felt like it was going to explode. His plan, his legacy, which had been devised so exactly and so thoroughly, it had all been shot to shit.

He let her arm go, and it hit the metal floor with such force that her clenched hand popped open, revealing a crumpled up piece of paper. It looked ordinary enough, but Mello had learned not to underestimate paper.

He wrestled the conventional-looking slip out of her palm and smoothed out the crumples. There was faint letters there, written in a heavy and irregular hand: '_Mihael Kee'. _

Mello just stared at the untidy pencilled letters for a while. He had been so close to death. Two letters -a mere matter of seconds. His own death had always been a part of his plan, but _seeing _it there like that ... it was indescribable. Numbing, would be the best word, though even that wasn't quite right.

Mello had been willing to be a martyr, to make L proud, to be the man who solved the Kira case with his own sacrifice. But he had never imagined how his death really would be. He knew now how shameful it would have been, to die nameless and alone in a ruined church. No one would have mourned him, no one would have even noticed he had gone. Was that the sort of death he wanted?

_No. Never. _

Mello gritted his teeth and crushed the Death Note cutting in his fist.

He cast a disdainful eye over Takada's pale and naked body. The sight of her was almost something to pity. This woman, so revered, so honoured and loved, famed for her refined ways and lady-like charm had died on her back, naked, legs-spread like a whore. In the end, that's all she was – Kira's whore. With an unamused smirk, he wondered how much of her death they would report.

He figured they would leave her nude dishonour out of it.

He chuckled to himself; it was not funny, he was beyond confused and without any idea what to do with his life now. But the chuckle grew into a laugh. He was _alive_. Though this ruined everything, he was still living and breathing. Kira was at large, there was no way to prove or disprove the second notebook, but at least he could feel the sun on his face.

The sun...

A sudden urge took over him and he leapt out of the truck and sprinted into the vast field beyond the ruin. A lot more time had passed than he had realized and the sun had set, but he could still bask in the wonder of the moon. She was full, bright and low in the inky sky. Her attendants twinkled softly, theirillumination all the more beautiful for the lack of city lights.

A cold night breeze rushed through the long grass, bracing his body and making the world whisper. Mello closed his eyes and listened to the secrets of the universe. He inhaled and inhaled until it felt like his lungs would split. He wanted to drink in the night and fill himself with it. He was _alive_. He slipped the crumpled Note cutting into the pocket of his leather vest, and then lifted his arms, feeling the cool air rushing past him, embracing him.

A soft thud caused those feline eyes to snap open. He glanced wearily at his feet. A fat, black notebook lay before him.

Cautiously, without the information really registering, he stooped and picked it up. It was bound in smooth leather, or at least, what appeared to be leather. It was quite a small book, but quite thick, and it reminded him of his father's old Bible. On the front of the binding was some lettering, acidic green and written in a spidery hand: '_Liber Mortis_'.

_Hmmm … Latin. Classy,Shinigami, very classy. _

He flicked through the pages. Every last one was blank, a fresh book for him to use. How kind. But there were no instructions on the flyleaves. That was unfortunate, but it was not the end of the world. In fact, he was more than willing to overlook that inconvenience. He had another Notebook.

And no one knew about this one.

He snapped the fat book shut and had to swallow a cry of shock. A small Shinigami crouched before him.

It was very small, only just reaching the height of his chest. The best way to describe it would be a wilting rag doll; one a child had played to death and then thrown away, after several disastrous attempts to revive it. The skin of the creature was patchy with different shades of purple and looked like it had been sewn together; it's legs where tiny and it's long, skeletal arms dragged along the floor behind it. Wings protruded from it's bent back, leathery and thin, like the wings of a bat; they in fact dwarfed the small creature, as they were always out and open, as if to try and give the illusion of height.

The face of the Shinigami was thin, the cheeks concave. One eye was large and pink, the other thin and violet. The nose was short and upturned. The lips were a thin line sewn together by thick cord – the thin line was slightly upturned; it must have been smiling.

The jaw of the Shinigami gyrated and, though the thin line of lips never parted, a cool female voice rang out crisp and clear. "Greetings, Mihael, son of Constantine. I am Vitae, the Shinigami."

;~;~;

_A/N: I really don't like Takada. Can you tell? I don't know what it is about her, probably because she's so smug and self assured. Or maybe it's because she's supposed to be intelligent, but still falls for all of Light's lies; I mean, Misa is stupid, I feel sorry for her being used. An intelligent woman should know better. Ugghh, anyway, please review and tell me what you think! _


	4. Chapter Four: Vitae

_A/N: My laptop charger broke, so I've been living in a light-less limbo for a while. But now I'm back to civilisation and feeling Death Note more than ever. Sorry this took so long; and thank you so much for all the reviews! _

Manipulated Living

Chapter Four: Vitae

Mello smirked, his thin, pink lips twisting into an expression that was neither kind nor cruel. "Vitae." He repeated, the name rolling easily off of his tongue. "Vitae the Shinigami."

She stared up at him in awe. Her handsome Mihael was even more handsome in person; for years she's admired him from afar, but now seeing him, so close, was wonderful. Her immortal eyes brimmed with tears; she had watched him from birth, as she had with his father, and his father's father, and she felt that she was coming face to face with her own lost child. After all, she had watched over him and cared for him every day of his life, which was more than his real mother had ever done.

She bowed her small head humbly. Her eyes danced about his face and she smiled a large, sewn smile. His eyes were what captured her withered heart the most. They were curved, more feline than feminine in their shape, and a light blue in colour. It looked as if the summer sky brewed deep in those irises. And there was a certain clarity to them, always composed, never giving too much away; hard and guarded, some would say cold; but she thought they were beautiful. They were the eyes of Adolphus, after all.

Mello waved the thick, black-bound book in front of her face. "And this is your Death Note, am I correct?"

Her head remained bowed and, though her lips never parted, her voice was clear, though weak. "You are correct, Mihael."

His leather-bound fingers travelled over and caressed the spine of the book. "But you dropped it, and now it is my notebook." He didn't need answers, he was just confirming it for himself. This change of fortune was a hard thing to get your head around.

He had been hell bent on sacrificing himself - there had been, in his mind, no other way for him to continue. Near could not win without him and he could not win without Near; but working together had never been an option. There could have been a hidden Death Note, Hal had told him this much – but there was no way to discern whether the notebook Mikami had been carrying around was real or fake. This was the glaring flaw in Near's stupid little plan.

It was a flaw too vital to overlook. Mello knew that his own investigation was going no where, and, if Near died, his well of information from Hal would dry up. Of course, Mello was a genius, but there is only so much one man can do, no matter how brilliant he may be. So there has been only one option open for him. He had to do something unexpected; something so implausible that even Kira himself would never see it coming. That had been his plan; to die so that his rival could live and win.

A bitter pill to swallow. But reality was just one big bitter pill.

Well, it had been. Until this Shinigami had let her notebook loose. Now everything was as sweet as, well, chocolate.

He flicked through the pages of the book again. The murder notebook. The most dangerous tool on the planet. It was his. His to use, to abuse, to bleed dry.

His thin lipped smirk grew into a decidedly cruel smile. This was so perfect. He could stop Kira now, now he had this. He could keep using Hal for information, and this new found power, he could get the edge on Near and rip victory from that albino's freakishly child-like hands.

He was back in the game, and, by God, he was going to win this and stop Kira. He would be number one, and he would be the one to avenge L, their mentor, and one of the most important people in Mello's life.

He glanced at the stooped head of the Shinigami. Her ragged mess of thick, coarse hair was veiling her face, but he caught the glimmer of her eyes on him in the dim glow of the moonlight.

"And.." He turned the word over slowly in his mouth. "You are the Shinigami who's going to be possessing me."

She nodded briskly. "It was my Notebook. I have to stay and watch over it until destroyed or finished. It's the rules. And there are direpunishments for those who break them." She smiled sweetly and cleared her throat. "And, it's a pleasure to finally meet you Mihael."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"I've always watched you, Mihael. From your first day on this planet to now. I've made sure you stayed safe, and when you thought you were truly alone, I was right there with you – you've never been alone, Mihael, you've never been unloved." Her eyes glittered with sentiment. "I was willing to die so that you could live! And that Notebook is my gift to you, so that you can win and get all that you deserve and desire."

There was a brief pause. Mello had recoiled slightly, shocked and a little unsettled by the Shinigami's attachment to him. The fact that she seen _everything_ he'd ever done made him feel extremely uncomfortable – he's done many shameful things in his life. But with that sense of shame came an odd sense of peace. He'd never been alone: not when they'd lost their father, nor when he first came to England and suffered the greatest loss of all, he'd _felt _alone, but someone had always been there with him.

He'd always turned to God in those hard times. Mello liked to think that there was a God, even though he'd come to terms with this Godless world a long time ago. His father had been so wrapped up in religion that Mello couldn't help but cling helplessly to the last little comforting scrap of his belief.

A leather-clad hand reached for his rosary, and the agile, thin fingers danced over the beads slowly before coming to caress the cruciform at the centre. An ornate piece, forged from silver, covered in delicate little designs, with a small wooden Jesus in the middle. His lifted it and pressed it to his lips; it had been his mother's.

Useless whore.

Vitae was beginning to get worried by his silence. Perhaps her little outpouring had been too much? Her little smile twisted and folded down to a look of gloom. _Nice going you fool! You've scared him with your love. Why did you think he could understand it? You ass, Vitae! You buffoon! You dunderhead! You lamebrained ignoramus! _

And so the self-battering thoughts continued, with such heated and all-consuming hatred that when he finally spoke, she gave a little start of surprise.

"It was you." His fingers still danced around the little cruciform, but his hard, icy eyes had lost the smooth softness of reflection; they bore into her deformed face. "You killed Takada." His voice was strong and piercing, but with no defining emotion, it hung in a limbo between irritation and dismissal.

If she had been a human, Vitae would have blushed with embarrassment, and her mouth would have dried up in her fear of his consuming glance. But she was not human; her mouth had dried up three millennia ago, and there was no blood beating about her body. She was just an empty shell of bone and skin, like the rest of her race. "Yes. I did." Her voice was small and soft, barely audible to he who stood a few feet away.

There was another deafening silence.

He turned on his heel and walked away. She followed, in a bit of a fluster. She had an odd way of flying, her great wings beat steadily, but she never really left the ground. She hovered beside him, a few inches above his head, using her long, skeletal arms to propel her forward, for they just reached the ground from that height.

He had thought of thanking the Shinigami for saving his life, but had thought better of it at the last moment. She had not been doing him a favour, he had not asked her to do it; she had done what she had done off of her own back. Her obsessive 'love' for him had made her do it. Why she loved him, he didn't know, and, quite frankly, he didn't care. But it worked in his favour and that's all that mattered.

Mello knew that Vitae would be useful in the future. In a game of chess, she would be the Queen, the most powerful and effective piece at his disposal.

He smirked to himself. Things had worked out a lot better than he had planned.

His free hand snaked into the pocket of his tight leather chest and drew out his phone.

He hit the first number on speed dial.

;~;~;

_A/N: Mello, you magnificent bastard! He's so callous, but he's sweet really. Ahhh, sorry it's so short. The next chapter will definitely be longer. I'm too busy with Christmas – so many presents to wrap, and I can't cut in straight lines, so the wrapping paper always ends up fucked. It's a hard life. _

_Next chapter! Hal Lidner! Yellow Box revealed! And I'm hoping to get Sayu in there as soon as possible! Please review!_

_Ahhhh, seriously, there will be updates as soon as possible! My muse died, but I'm working on it guys. Have faith! And thanks for all the support!_


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